The Night He Left Her
by Erugenel
Summary: Obiwan knew he had to leave her, but to Sabe, it still hurt, like a betrayal. Inspired by a banner I chanced upon.


**Note: I absolutely love the Obi wan/Sabé pairing from Star Wars, and I thought I would give it a try! I have a few more ideas for this pairing coming up, but they are in no way related to this story.**

**DISCLAIMER: Not conceived by me but written for the greater good.

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**The Night He Left Her**

Sabé knew she was asking for too much, that nothing could ever happen, but I still hurt, much like a betrayal.

They were romanced in a classic setting; her home world was in danger, and he and his master had come to save them. They had managed to overcome the threat, yet his master had perished in the effort. He was the savior of Naboo. And their grief had drawn them closer. But what could a lowly handmaiden to the Queen ask for, and what could a newly-knighted Jedi with a new Padawan learner offer her? Love? Or the brief fleeting excuse of it, sustained only by hurried, secret meetings that barely sated their desire for one another?

They shared love, yes, but as their time together dwindled, so did their hope of ever making their relationship last. And night after night, as they met in the shadows, stealing moments of frenzied passion in hidden alcoves, they promised each other that they would wait until the end of time for each other, that their love would bear them through each storm, each obstacle, even through scandal and disdain. But these promises were always woven with a futile promise, and they knew, deep in their minds, that they could never be.

Both of them knew the unfair conclusion to their short time together, but neither wanted to say it, neither wanted to openly declare that they had come to terms with a pill so bitter that eventually had to be swallowed. Both also knew where their responsibilities lay: his, to the Jedi Order, and hers to her Queen. Could they shirk it for their own selfish wants? Could they forsake it for their own trivial needs? They knew what they had to do, but it did not make it any easier to deal with; instead, it made it harder.

So, each night they lay in each other's arms, he, reveling in the softness of her skin, the beauty of her eyes, the tenderness of her touch. And she caressed his battle scars, his handsome face that looked older than it was by each passing day. And they loved each other for what they were, not what they made out to be.

For they both had been fooled. He had thought of her as the Queen, disguised under the heavy black dress and the stark makeup hid not the Queen, but the thoughtful, enigmatic girl that was playing the loyal decoy. She had thought of him as some Godlike hero come to save her planet from danger, but she had been mistaken. The Jedi wore carefully constructed walls of stoicism that took much effort to bring down. But she had brought them down, and behind them lay an insecure youth who had his own fears and dreams that were dampened by the years of indoctrination of the Jedi Code. And in their own woefully inadequate impressions of each other, they had learned to share a sublime connection both knew they could never ignore.

Neither wanted to tell the other that they would have to part ways, so instead of going out to face reality and destiny, hands entwined, they put it off day after day, and instead hid, trying to forget the world around them as they were lost in each other, and under the twilight and the dusky shadows they explored realm of heated gazed, of the blissful agony of feather light touches, and the bittersweet caresses that spoke of a love that could only end in heartbreak.

They offered silent comfort in this way, drawing whatever strength from each other, he, to leave her side and her, to accept it. Tears had been shed, but she realized that Obi-wan Kenobi was a man of the most unwavering loyalty, and her tears were making it harder for him to train his new Padawan and act as the perfect Jedi on the Jedi code's dictum. So she had held them back, querulous, impetuous drops of salt water that left the most unattractive tracks down her face. For his sake, she would not cry, but wait for what was to come, and support him fully in whatever he had to do.

They would wake a little before dawn, each to return to their respective posts, smiling fondly at the memory of their clandestine starlight rendezvous. Then dread would fill them, and they looked away from each other not wanting to speak for fear of the other slipping away. He knew it was inevitable that he do the deed, and his time was running out, and he put it off each time, never seeming to get enough of her, never wanting to let go…

Tomorrow they were leaving. Tonight was going to be the last night he would ever spend with her. He had to do it. By the force, both knew what was expected of them, but he had to say it, or _do _it just for the sake of his weary mind. He did not know how much more he could take. Well then, if this was their last night together, better make it a night to remember.

When she stepped into the secluded gazebo that served as the location of their nighttime escapades, she drew back with a gasp of delight, covering her mouth with a slender hand. He stood before her, dressed in his finest Jedi robes, waiting shyly, patiently for her. He saw he smile delightedly, and gaze upon him with love, but it was a sad gaze, one that spoke of the knowledge of what was to come. She knew.

He took her hand, and no words needed to be spoken between them, and she dared not speak lest she break the magic of that night. For in the corner, a small table, set for two, lit by candles and with elegant crockery and silverware awaited them. He led her to it, and sitting down, produced a bottle of Naboo's finest wine and poured some into two crystal wineglasses.

"Ben, how?" was all she could ask. He gave a small smile and corked the wine-bottle.

"Your Queen Amidala… _discovered_ our affection for each other, and I was of course, ambushed by her and her slew of handmaidens, not including you, of course," he added, causing them both to laugh.

"They helped me set up this," he waved his arm around, "And though I could not provide some dinner, she did gift me with the wine, and said to use it well," he finished. She sipped her wine, grinning softly.

"Should you be feared of them?" she looked at him wickedly.

"Most certainly. The sight of Padmé, Rabé, Saché, Eirtaé and Yané bearing down upon a single man are a terrible sight to behold," he chuckled.

His face fell. He knew what he was here for, and he had to do it.

"Sabé," he started to say but she cut him off.

"Don't say it; I know. It's not your choice, neither is it mine." She looked at him with a sorrowful resignation on her face. Somehow, his heart clenched painfully to see her like this. It was not fair! Nothing was, nothing ever was. Why should they just fall in love, and then have to be torn apart so suddenly? He hated it, and to hell be damned that it was the will of the Force.

"Hold me," she whispered, almost inaudibly, drowned out by the incessant chirping of the nightlife all around them. They rose, and with his strong arms he held her, for one last time, burning into their memories every moment that they spent together, that they shared kisses, and been loved.

"Let me remember what it feels like to hold you, once again," he whispered into her hair, as they stood, bathed in the moonlight. Then, she broke apart from him.

"Do it," she whispered fiercely. "Now!"

"No," he said simply. Then, he said so suddenly, so abruptly, "Write to me?" gazing into her fathomless eyes hopefully.

"Always," she nodded miserably to him, glistening tears at the corner of her eyes.

"Then I won't be truly leaving you, dearest. I love you, Sabé." He tenderly stroked her hair as she sniffled into his chest. Finally, she extricated herself from him.

"I love you too, Ben, but you must go. If you don't, you can't turn away." Her words were practical, but her heart screamed in denial and anguish as she said them.

"But let me kiss you, one last time," he cupped her face in his hands and she did not flinch at his touch. He gazed down at her with an expression of the purest love and adoration, and he slowly lowered his lips to hers.

They broke apart, and tore away freom each other. Thye could go no further. Slowly, he turned his back to her, his shoulders slumped, his eyes full of unshed tears. He looked back at her once, branding in his memory the way she had looked tonight, how soft her lips had been, how beautiful she was in the moonlight.

She watched him go, willing herself not to cry, not to let one tear escape until he was firmly a good distance away from her. And with each step he took, her heart was wrenched, and tossed, and she was stricken as one who would die. But she could not cry.

He now knew what it was like for Anakin to leave his mother. His whole body tugged at his will in vain, trying to break free of the mindless stupor he had thrown himself into. He would not look back, and he knew that she would not cry. And in this, they were perfectly matched, for they knew what the other had to do, and they respected their decision.

It was only when he had well and truly left did she let herself cry.


End file.
